“You don’t have to be a really good parent,” she said. “All you have to do is be good enough.”
As I pondered her words, I realized why my parents and Marge had liked Emily so much. Like them, Emily was wise.
CHAPTER 19
Finding My Own Way
It was the wedding in Chapel Hill that cemented my resolve to see Emily again. By the time the cake had been cut and the bouquet had been tossed, Emily and I had danced to more songs than I could keep track of. When the band took a break, we stepped out on the balcony for a breath of fresh air. Above us, a big orange moon hung low in the sky, and I could see Emily staring at it with the same sense of wonder I felt.
“I wonder why it’s orange,” I mused aloud. To my surprise, I heard Emily answer.
“When the moon is low in the sky, the light scatters because it has to pass through more layers of the atmosphere than when it’s overhead. By the time the light reaches our eyes, the blue, green, and purple parts of the spectrum have scattered, leaving only yellow, orange, and red visible to us.”
“How do you know that?” I marveled, turning to her.
“My dad explained it to me every time we saw one of these,” she said, nodding at the glowing orb hovering over the horizon. “I guess over time, it just stuck.”
“I’m still impressed.”
“Don’t be. If you ask me anything else about the night sky other than the location of the Big Dipper, I wouldn’t be able to help you. For instance, I know that one or two of those stars out there are probably planets, but I couldn’t tell you which ones they are.”
Scanning the sky, I pointed. “That one over there, right above the tree? That’s Venus.”
“How do you know?”
“Because it’s brighter than the stars.”
She squinted. “Are you sure?”
“No,” I admitted and she laughed. “But my dad told me that. He used to wake me in the middle of the night so the two of us could watch meteor showers.”
A nostalgic smile crossed her face. “My dad did that with me, too,” she said. “And whenever we went camping, he’d stay up with Jess and me for hours, and we’d watch for falling stars.”
“Jess?”
“My older sister. Do you have any siblings?”
“I have an older sister, too. Marge.” I tried to picture Emily as a girl, with her family. “I’m having a hard time imagining you camping.”
She knitted her brows. “Why?”
“I don’t know,” I said. “I guess maybe because you strike me as more of a city girl.”
“What does that mean?’
“You know… coffee shops, poetry readings, art galleries, joining protests, voting socialist.”
She laughed. “One thing’s for sure—you don’t know me at all.”
“Well,” I said, gathering my courage, “I’d like to know you better. What do you like to do for fun?”
“Are you asking me out on a date?”
Her gaze left me feeling a bit flustered. “If your idea of fun is skydiving or shooting apples off my head with a bow and arrow, then the only reason I’m asking is for the sake of conversation.”
“But if it’s dinner and a movie…” She arched an eyebrow.
“That’s more my style.”
She brought a hand to her chin and slowly shook her head. “No… dinner and a movie is just too… clichéd,” she said finally. “How about a hike?”
“A hike?” Eyeing her stiletto heels, I had trouble picturing her outdoors, communing with nature.
“Yeah,” she said. “How about Crowders Mountain? We can follow the Rocktop Trail.”
“I’ve never been there,” I said. In fact, I’d never heard of it.
“Then it’s a date,” she said. “How about next Saturday?”
I looked at her, suddenly wondering whether I’d asked her out or if she’d asked me, or even whether it really mattered. Because I could already tell that Emily was extraordinary, and I knew without a doubt that I wanted to get to know her better.
On Sunday, when I had spare time, I worked on the third commercial and shipped it off to the editor, which took less time than I thought it would. It had to take little time, since the rest of my day was spent with London.
It may not be politically correct to say, but the fact that London was going to school made my life better, too. As much as I loved my daughter, Sunday wore me out and I was looking forward to heading to work, if only because it seemed somehow easier than entertaining a five-year-old for sixteen straight hours.
My good mood, however, ended even before I got to the office on Monday morning. I’d just dropped London off when I fielded a call from Taglieri, asking if it was possible for me to swing by his office.
Half an hour later, I was sitting across from him in his office. His jacket was off and his sleeves were rolled up; on his desk were messy piles of what I assumed to be ongoing cases.
“Thanks for making time this morning,” he said. “I connected with Vivian’s attorney on Friday. I wanted to get a sense of her and see if there was a way to make all of this proceed as smoothly as possible.”
“And?”
“Unfortunately, she was exactly as billed. After hanging up, I went to her firm’s website because I had to see what she looked like. During our call I kept picturing an ice statue instead of a real person. I mean, she was subzero.”
His description conjured up a number of future scenarios, none of them particularly good for me. “What does that mean?”
“It means it’s probably going to be harder for you than it should be, depending on how forcefully you intend to fight.”
“I don’t care about the money as much as I care about London. I want joint custody.”
“I hear you,” he said, raising his hand. “And I know that’s what you want. But I’m not even sure what that means. Vivian’s living in Atlanta and because she wants residency in Georgia, she’s not coming back here. My question to you is whether you’re willing to move to Atlanta.”
“Why do I have to move? My house is here. My family is here. My job is here.”
“That’s my point. Even if you received joint custody, how would that work? It’s not like you’d have the chance to see London very much. Which is why, I assume, Vivian is asking for sole custody, as well as physical custody. She’s willing to grant you visitation…”
“No,” I said, cutting him off. “That’s not going to happen. I’m her father. I have rights.”
“Yes, you do. But we both know that courts tend to favor women. And Vivian’s attorney is telling me that Vivian was the primary caregiver until only a few months ago.”
“I worked so she could stay at home!”
Joey raised his hands, even as his voice adopted a soothing cadence. “I know that,” he said, “and I don’t think it’s fair either. But in custody battles, fathers are at a real disadvantage. Especially in situations like these.”
“She’s the one who moved out. She left us!”
“According to Vivian’s attorney, it was because you left her with no other choice. You were no longer able to support the family and you’d drained a big chunk from the savings account. She was forced to get a job.”
“That’s not true! Vivian took the job because she wanted to. I didn’t make her do anything…”
Taglieri fixed me with a sympathetic look. “I believe you. I’m on your side, Russ. I’m just relaying some of the things Vivian’s attorney said to me. By the way, that woman may be an ice queen and a bully, but I’m not afraid to take her on. She’s never had to go toe-to-toe with the Bulldog, and I’m good at my job. I just wanted to update you in person and prepare you for what comes next. This thing is already ugly, and it’s probably going to get even uglier over the next few months.”